American Psycho
A Decade Late and a Dollar Short
Brett Easton Ellis' brand-conscious psychotic and investment banker, Patrick Bateman, finally makes it to the big screen almost a full decade after the publication of the controversial novel. Unfortunately, the intervening years have taken much of the edge off the story. Mary Harron's tepid and, at times, almost prissy direction pretty much does away with what remains.
When American Psycho was originally published, it was a timely (and scathing) indictment of the total self-centeredness that was so highly prized for much of the '80s. Bateman, who could casually torture a one-night stand to death as easily as he could pick out an Armani three-piece suit, was the epitome of that solipsistic attitude.
But the '80s have come and gone, and sensibilities have changed. Much of the excess to which Ellis' book was a reaction is so removed from our experience that the subtext to the plot falls flat.
Nor are matters helped any by Christian Bales' fairly wooden performance. Where Bateman's nattering on about the history and development of Huey Lewis and the News served in the book as a sign of his deeply obsessed nature, here it just seems stilted and tedious.
Harron's approach is far too timid for the material she's taken on here. Ellis' book was a topical Grand Guignol of a satire. In contrast, all of Harron's murder take place, tidily enough, off screen. Her cinematography is occasionally striking, but that is not enough to rescue this film. The whole feel of the film is languid, leaving little of the edginess of the original novel.
But the biggest problem is that, watching American Psycho, one gets the same feeling as one would reading political cartoons from a campaign long ago, the issues of which have been largely forgotten or are no longer pertinent. Bateman, rather than being the ultimate point on the trajectory of the 1980s Wall Street go-getter, seems merely another loony.
American Psycho
Christian Bale
Director: Mary Harron
Running time: xxx min.